


As Delicate as a Willow (As Strong as an Oak)

by DoreyG



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Wonder Woman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amazonian Culture, Amazons - Freeform, Competency, Crossover Pairings, Culture Shock, Domestic, F/F, Getting Together, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Nazis, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-19 13:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8210809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: "Themyscira is not - isn't - like that," Diana corrects her, but again not angrily. That striking thought remains in her eyes, as she leans back a little on the bed and watches her with a protectiveness that is more touching than she ever thought it would be, "I am a princess, but we are...""Equal?""Yes?"Equal. She still isn't quite sure what strange kind of place this is, but if it's capable of producing something as lovely as Diana she's going to give it the benefit of the doubt.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [navaan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/gifts).



When she wakes up, it's rather a surprise.

She's lying on a beach, sand gritty under her fingertips and probably working its way ever deeper into her hair. The sky above her head is surprisingly blue, the kind of blue that she's only seen before on her brief trip to America before she was reassigned. She can hear birds tweeting nearby, and the gentle rush of the ocean just beneath her feet.

The most beautiful woman that she's ever seen is kneeling over her, and looking faintly confused.

Her hair is dark black, and flows wild and free over her shoulders. Her eyes are blue, but the deep blue of the violent ocean as opposed to the peaceful blue of the sky above them. Her skin is tan, as if she spends a lot of time outside as opposed to cloistered in the home like a good woman should be. Her arms are bare, and the muscles that she sees bunching in them are enough to make her mouth go faintly dry.

The Woman says something, in an accent that can probably be described as closer to Greek than anything else.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," she says politely, shifts a little on the sand as she tries to gain her bearings, "I never really studied Greek, I'm afraid. Do you think you could go a little slower?"

The woman frowns for a long few moments, but doesn't seem to get angry. Her eyes only remain curious, as she glances over her tattered clothes and doubtlessly bruised body. The attention is enough, in her slightly addled state, to get her blushing, "I... Greek?"

"That's what you're speaking, isn't it?" She asks, and watches the woman keep frowning ever so thoughtfully, "except... Not a dialect I've ever heard. Where am I?"

The woman tilts her head, keeps doing so until she actually uses her brain and waves at the world all around them, "Themyscira."

"That's the name of the island?" She asks, interested, and is somewhat surprised when the woman finally smiles and nods in response. A quick study, she can certainly appreciate that, "interesting, I can't say that I've ever heard of a Themyscira either. Where is it? And, for that matter, how on earth did I crash here? What happened to my plane, is it-?"

The woman laughs, a clear and wonderfully resonant sound. Holds up her hands, and vaguely gestures for her to slow down.

"...Ah, I'm going too fast," she acknowledges wryly, and twists her body a little in the sand. It might be time to stand up soon, and go discover the other wonders of the island with this woman at her side, "I'm sorry, I have the habit of doing that sometimes. What's your name?"

The laughter calms down to a faint smile, as the woman thinks again. And then, with a brief screwing up of her face that she'd be hard pressed to define as anything other than charming, answers: "Diana."

"Diana," she repeats softly, and can't help but smile herself as the woman - _Diana_ \- nods in response. It suits her, adds yet another compelling element to the many already presented, "lovely to meet you. My name is Peggy, Peggy Carter."

"Peggy," Diana murmurs softly, gives her a look so interested and hopeful that the walls she's carefully built up over the years buckle a little just at that, "Peggy Carter?"

"I'm guessing you don't have last names?" She asks, smiles a little when Diana only falls back to frowning and finally - boldly - takes the step of levering herself up onto her arms and glancing around, "it's irrelevant at the moment, anyway. I'm far more interested in learning about the land of Themyscira, and whatever-"

The one thing her comprehensive catalogue of the world around her failed to take into account was her apparent injury. There's a fierce surge of pain, a brief flash of Diana worriedly calling her name... And then darkness, utter and complete.

 

\--

 

The next time that she wakes up, she's rather less surprised and rather more _irritated_.

Her head feels muggy, and has developed an irritating pounding sensation that is distracting at best. The wound in her side doesn't ache as much as it should do, considering that it was enough to make her pass out from the pain last time, but it's still there in a way that makes her grit her teeth and knot her fists. She can move a little, when she tentatively tries, but it's enough of an effort to make her limbs feel like stone afterwards.

She's been moved from the beach. When she shifts her hands she finds rough fabric under her fingertips, when she shuffles her legs she finds a heavy blanket thrown over them. She's lying in a bed, one that is rather smaller and less luxurious than what she's generally used to but that is still rather comfortable nonetheless. She can hear a soft humming in the near distance, a soft humming that sharply stops when she manages to lift her head to examine more than the rough stone ceiling above her.

"Peggy!"

Her rescuer, she presumes.

When Diana looms into sight she feels more relieved than anything else. There's concern in her eyes, yes, but that charming smile from the last time they met is firm upon her lips. She suddenly feels a little foolish, pinned here to this bed while Diana towers - literally towers, from a slightly more upright position she can appreciate just how tall the woman actually is - over her. She's always allowed herself the vanity of her appearance, she rather wishes that she was in a slightly better state to greet so striking a visitor.

"Diana," she says, and tries to sound as competent as she can despite the circumstances stacked against her, "where-?"

"Themyscira."

"I remember that we're on Themyscira," she smiles, can't help feeling a touch fond as Diana tilts her head and looks a little sheepish, "I meant... Ah, where are we in particular?"

Diana, as expected, looks blank for a long moment. But she's an intelligent woman. A long moment of thought, and then she settles herself slowly down on the bed by her side and carefully takes her hands, "you are... Ill. Your plane - plane? - shattered, there is a piece of it in your- Um."

"My side?" She provides, as Diana frowns and nods towards her right, "my side. Ah, how inconvenient. Did you bring me somewhere safe, then?"

"Safe!" Diana nods brightly, restored to full determined optimism by her confirmation, "yes. I brought you somewhere safe."

"To where you live?" She hedges her bets, sighs when Diana returns to looking blank and makes the vague shape of a house shape of a house with her hands. It's a pathetic effort, she really could do better if she was feeling more herself, but it gets Diana giggling so she's going to count it as a success.

"Yes," a success in all ways, as Diana confirms with a return of the smile - slightly more teasing this time, as she takes her hands again and holds them further apart, "but..."

"Bigger," she surmises, slightly surprised despite herself. Slowly leans back against the pillows, and considers the new information that she's gathering as best she can, "you're rich, then? I mean, you have a lot?"

"Themyscira is not - isn't - like that," Diana corrects her, but again not angrily. That striking thought remains in her eyes, as she leans back a little on the bed and watches her with a protectiveness that is more touching than she ever thought it would be, "I am a princess, but we are..."

"Equal?"

"Yes?"

Equal. She still isn't quite sure what strange kind of place this is, but if it's capable of producing something as lovely as Diana she's going to give it the benefit of the doubt.

 

\--

 

Unfortunately, not all awakenings can be so pleasant.

Diana is always pleased to see her, or so it seems. She comes as often as she can, bright and charming and so smart that she's honestly taken aback by it a lot of the time. She chatters away in her native language, learns more English every single day and brings back bright stories of the island where she lives. On her tongue Themyscira sounds a paradise, a wonderfully hidden away place that has only one fault - its isolation.

The rest of the Amazons are... Not as welcoming, and certainly not as willing to tell a practical stranger every detail of their lives.

She comes awake with a start, a few hours after Diana's last visit. Manages to lift herself to a sitting position before she realizes that she's not alone, that the room is filled with Amazons all watching her with various degrees of hostility.

She recognizes Phillipus first, for the woman is probably the one who has visited her the most. She stands there with a clear scowl on her face, watching her with narrow and faintly furious eyes. Such obvious rage is easily ignored, she _has_ been around the army for a while, in favour of more interesting matters. 

By her side sits a tall woman who resembles Diana in startling detail. Her hair is long and dark, her eyes are piercing and her entire bearing carries an air of dignity. This woman is obviously a leader, quite probably the queen of this little band of Amazons, "good, you are awake."

"My name is Peggy Carter, ma'am," she offers, because she has never been in the habit of stating the absolutely bloody obvious and she's not about to start now, as she sits herself up a little further and extends her hand, "a pleasure to meet you, and... I'm sorry, you can speak English?"

A fair few Amazons tense at her polite gesture, she winces a little at the presumption and makes a mental note to be more thoughtful in the future, but the woman frowns at them until even Phillipus takes her hand off her weapon. When she turns back in her direction, her eyes seem almost... Amused, "I am Hippolyta, queen of the Amazons, and I know many things."

"To be informed is certainly good," she offers, carefully.

"Quite," the amusement flashes for a moment more, to be replaced by a cool type of thought, "I know, for instance, that you are not from here. That you are, in fact, from the man's world."

She makes a face, fully prepared to dispute that statement-

"An outsider," but Phillipus interrupts before she can do any such thing, scowls at her with a ferocity that would take her aback if she was the wilting flower that half the men she had worked under assumed her to be.

"Everybody is an outsider somewhere," she smiles politely, glad that she has never been a flower of any sort. She has been underestimated before, she flatters herself that she rather knows how to turn it into an advantage, "I am sorry for intruding upon your lovely isle, but I'm afraid that I had no other choice. Will it prove an issue?"

"We are not sure yet," Hippolyta says, giving Phillipus a stern look until the woman drops her head and scowls even more fiercely, "we rarely receive outsiders on Themyscira. It is, in fact, almost impossible to get through. The fact that you could is... Troubling."

"Understandably so," she nods, making sure to keep her voice as carefully neutral as possible, "but as I said, I didn't have much choice in the matter."

"She-!"

"Phillipus!" Hippolyta snaps, even more sternly, "I heard you the first time you said so... Ms Carter?"

"I feel that our goals are the same, as a result," she smiles carefully, accepting the title. Hippolyta does not seem actively hostile to her, as of yet, but they are still nowhere close to the level of friends and she has found protocol a far finer protection than most people would ever consider, "your home is truly lovely, but I came here by accident and thus do not wish to stay for long. As soon as I can return to the _human_ world, I will quite happily be on my way."

"You have business there?"

"I would like to," she mutters, largely under her breath, and plasters her professional smile back into place before Hippolyta can do more than arch an eyebrow in response, "you say that you know a lot of things, so you must surely know that a war currently rages."

"I am aware of it, though I do not consider it a concern for Themyscira," Hippolyta allows, with a firm glance in Phillipus' - who looks, quite passionately, like she wants to back that statement - direction, "nonetheless, I will be frank. If it provides a reason for you to depart this place, I shall make every effort to return you to your business."

"I am sorry to be so much of a burden on this lovely place," she offers as politely as she can, well versed by now at not letting a single bit of bitterness into her voice.

"Themyscira is a sacred place, a safe harbour for many of us. It is not you, it is just the way that things must be," Hippolyta does not hesitate, she does not seem quite the type of woman, but she does quite obviously think for a moment. A pause, and then she sweeps regally up to her feet and quickly across to the door, "we will focus on getting you better, and then we will talk with our best craftsmen about building you a boat so you can return to the... _Human_ world."

 

\--

 

So that becomes her life from that point on, four stone walls and suspicious guards watching her at most times of the day. Hippolyta does not visit her again, stays away from the stranger come to disturb paradise as befits a queen. Diana is allowed to see her only infrequently, a slight anger in her eyes and a stubborn set to her chin that suggests she’s been ordered away for her own safety. Phillipus is there all the time, watching her with solemn eyes and a defensive bearing like she’s taken the protection of all of Themyscira onto her shoulders.

It is somewhat annoying.

It is, she must admit, slightly less annoying than being the gawked at by a procession of soldiers and fools and all steps in between. But she has still always rankled at being treated like some zoo animal, to be poked at and prodded and examined like she doesn’t matter at all. It is not the worst state of affairs, but it is still hardly the most pleasant set of circumstances she has ever faced.

Still, she supposes this is her life now. To be locked away in a tiny stone room, kept away from the one woman that does not suspect her while waiting to be shipped off like some sort of cattle...

Until.

It is a balmy night, a few weeks after she first arrived. She has almost resigned herself, by now, to how it is going to go. She is going to sit on her bed, and attempt to decipher yet more of the strange not quite Greek that they communicate in here. She is going to appreciate the warmth of the night and the clearness of the air, and try to pretend that she isn’t utterly bored by the whole thing. She is going to hear, with a sense of irritation quickly growing to astonishment...

A tapping at the rough glass of the window, where Diana is hopefully perched.

“Oh!” She does not fall off the bed, she has never done such a ridiculous thing in her life, but it is a lot closer than she’d like to admit. She jumps to her feet instead, hurries to the window and carefully opens it before Diana can fall and break her neck, “what are you doing out there?”

“I wanted to see you,” Diana says cheerfully, and hops down off the ledge. Up close, she can see that her brief fears were nearly completely unfounded – Diana is as sure as a cat on her feet, as delicate as a willow but as strong as an oak, “to, what is the word... Rescue you? When I have been sent to bed before I have always been bored, I wanted to _rescue_ you from the same fate.”

She has never been some distressed damsel in a tower, but Diana’s sincerity touches her nonetheless. The woman, as of yet, has little guile to her – she is largely earnest, optimism shining from her like light from the sun, “thank you. But I must ask, what would your mother think?”

Diana gives her a puzzled look, that verges on the edge of amusement, “do my mother’s thoughts matter so much to you?”

“I know she forbade you from seeing me,” she says gently, trying to be reasonable. It’s hard, with Diana standing there in the moonlight and staring at her in such a beseeching way, “and I know the rest of your people hardly approve of me being here, that all of them would rather I disappeared. What would they think if they knew you were here? What would Phillipus?”

“They don’t matter,” Diana says firmly, then immediately makes a face as if thinking better of her sudden boldness, “that is wrong, they do and even I know that they have reasons for feeling as they do. They all love me, they all love my mother – Phillipus more than most – and they all love Themyscira. They don’t want any of those hurt. But...”

She waits for as long as she can, as Diana puzzles over the words, but even her patience must run out eventually, “but?”

“Just because they fear, does not mean you should suffer,” Diana says, incredibly firmly, and reaches out to grab her hands – tows her to the window, so firmly that she finds herself utterly unable to resist, “come. You know how to ride, yes?”

 

\--

 

And so that becomes her life, a far better sort of one in so many ways.

She spends her days in bed, undeniably bored and trying not to rankle too hard under the watchful eyes of the Amazons, but at night... Diana will climb up the ivy outside her window, will take her by the hand and lead her out into a world of wonders.

It is, although she has never considered herself a particularly dramatic person, better than she has ever dreamed.

She cannot do much at the beginning, getting stabbed by a fragment of plane will rather take the wind out of your sails, but she grows stronger by the day. She goes from simply walking on the back of the sharp brown mare that Diana carefully chose for her to trotting, and from there cantering and galloping are a few small steps away. They go strolling by waterfalls, then clambering up trees, then even climbing up a mountain in short order. They run through the land outside Themyscira like little children, dragging each other along hand in hand.

And Diana responds just as well to her.

The woman cannot speak much English at the beginning, she has never heard the tongue and it is always hard to start from scratch, but she soon starts progressing by leaps and bounds. She goes from largely babbling in her own tongue to cautiously feeling out sounds in English, and progresses towards full sentences astonishingly quickly from that point on. She grasps nouns with ease, verbs with only a slight bit more difficulty, adverbs with a certain kind of delight that warms her from the inside. She even has a poet's tongue sometimes, one that can turn the sky violet and the sea bubbling aqua.

And, despite herself and all the walls she has built up over the years, she is... Charmed. She has never been the type of woman to swoon, has always regarded the compliments that boys paid her and the gifts that men gave her in a dubious light, but Diana half makes her feel like it sometimes. She is intoxicating on every level, like a fine wine or a champagne that bubbles on the tongue.

"I am glad that you came here," Diana confesses one night, obviously feeling the same way. They are lying on a grassy field halfway up a mountain, their horses grazing nearby and their fingers tenderly entwined, "I love all my sisters, love them truly and deeply, but... You are more."

"More?" She asks, allowing a slight bit of playfulness to seep into her tone. She has always been serious before, has had to build up her walls to get anywhere in a world where at least half the men she meets seem to be actively puzzled that she's not chained to a stove, but with Diana she feels like she can be a little closer to herself, "I am flattered, but I honestly don't think that I'm more than somebody like Phillipus..."

"You speak so much of Phillipus, my mother will start getting jealous," Diana teases in return, and sits up from her sprawl - dark hair going over her shoulders as she tilts her head back to stare at the stars, "I meant... Oh, it is hard to explain. It's a little like how I feel about Themyscira itself. I love it here, it is my home, but I have always felt like there is a whole world beyond it."

"Geographically, that is true," she says wryly, giving Diana's hand a little squeeze to reassure her.

"You know what I mean!" Diana only pulls a face in her direction, is soon smiling again in the next moment. She possesses such optimism. An untrained eye would think it naive, but she sees the true determination that exists beneath it, "I do not feel like I am - like I'm? - supposed to live my whole life on this one island, with only my sisters for company. I feel like I'm meant for greater things, better things. Things that actually make a _difference_."

And she hesitates for a second. Debates telling Diana that the world outside is not as tempting as it first seems, debates telling her about the war and the men who will always sneer at anybody female and the way that even the simplest bit of progress seems even harder than climbing an actual mountain at times...

But that, in the end, would be a small sort of lie. For no matter all the terrible things that stand in her way, the chance to make a difference glows brighter than all of them, "I think I know what you mean."

 

\--

 

And so that becomes her life, continuing to get better and better by the day.

Attraction has always been a funny thing, at least for her. She was always told that a woman’s only purpose in life was to find a reasonable husband. Men got to go on adventures, men got to save the world, but women had to stay home and darn the socks. As such, considering her natural stubbornness, she always rather rallied against the idea. She’s kissed a few boys, even went the whole hog and tried to convince herself that she wanted to get married once, but she’s always kept her walls up. There’s no point in making herself vulnerable, after all, for something that will inevitably make her inferior.

But Diana... Diana, somehow, manages to get past all her walls as easy as breathing.

She’s the most beautiful woman that she’s ever met – not objectively, because that is such a hard thing to measure no matter what most men she’s met seem to think, but undeniably and strikingly so with her dark hair and stubbornly blue eyes. She’s also the most athletic woman that she’s ever met – fearless, able to gallop a horse and shoot a bow bigger than herself without even breaking a sweat.

But she’s so much more than her physical qualities, which must inevitably fade one day even for an Amazon. She’s strong mentally too, practically fearless and largely unflappable in a way that she never thought she’d see mirrored outside of herself. She’s so optimistic that it shines off her in waves, honestly believes in the fundamental goodness of the world with a determination that sometimes takes her breath away. She’s brave, and she’s kind, and she’s exciting. And for all her physical prowess, she’s so fiercely intelligent-

“Peggy, What _is_ happening off this island?” ...That sometimes she’s rather too intelligent for her own good.

They’re sitting on top of the palace, having decided to abandon their more physical pursuits for the night in favour of Diana telling her the Amazonian names for the stars. She debates lying for a moment, not throwing another block in the way of Diana’s optimism, but... No, she respects the woman far too much to do such a thing, “there’s a war.”

“A war?” Diana asks, looking briefly intrigued in a way that it’s very hard not to wince at, “I have heard many stories of wars, is this like them?”

“Not exactly,” she sighs, and – when Diana only stares at her with faintly confused eyes – steels herself to go on, “the stories that you’ve probably heard of war, that everybody has probably heard of war at some point, focus on the glory of it. But this is not a glorious war, it is a necessary one.”

“A... Necessary one?” Diana continues to frown, though her eyes are sharp.

“There is a man, in a place called Germany,” she hesitates for a second, at this abridged version. Debates the value of it for a moment, then decides that reductionism does nobody any favours, “or more accurately, as comforting as it would be to believe in one wicked monster, there are many men in a place called Germany who have all decided to think the same way. They have burst the boundaries of their land, they have spread out across Europe – and beyond – and tried to force their way of thinking upon millions.”

“They are conquerors?” Diana asks quietly, her eyes narrowing by the minute.

“They are, but they are worse than that too,” she hesitates for a second, stares down at her hands as she tries to gather her thoughts into order. Diana waits, only a touch impatient, at her side – tenser than she’s ever seen her, “their way of thinking... It doesn’t allow anything, or anybody, different. If you are Jewish, you are a blot on the world and must be removed. If you are disabled, you are unfit to exist in society and must be removed. If you love those of your own gender, you are an abomination and must be removed.”

Diana does not gasp, or swoon, or perform her grief out to the world. She only continues to stare, eyes gone hard and angry, “they are murderers.”

“Mass murderers,” she agrees, and watches Diana’s passion with a certain proud surge in her chest.

“They should be stopped,” Diana declares, and reaches out to grab her hand – tightly interlaces their fingers, and lifts it up between them like a pact made, “we have to stop them, halt them and show them how wrong they are. Show them that following your beliefs is not a blot on anything, show them that having a disability makes nobody unworthy of existence, show them that loving another truly and deeply...”

She heaves in a deep breath, suddenly pinned to the spot by the passion in Diana’s gaze.

“Noble goals, princess,” suddenly interrupted, from anything she might want to do, by Phillipus’s angry voice coming from behind, “but, alas, ones that _you_ will never be able to fulfil.”

 

\--

 

So she is dragged away from the brief paradise she thought she had found, to a tiny stone room with not even a window to light it.

Diana is led away protesting by two Amazons, back to her room without any chance to fight. She is treated less kindly, is dragged away by another two soldiers and forced into her new prison. With shackles upon her ankles, and heavy around her wrists like they fear what she will do if she is left unchained. 

"You don't like me much," she asks Philippus, who stands on the other side of the bars and watches her with cold and wary eyes, "do you?"

“A bold question,” the woman answers her slowly, still giving her a wary glance – not quite like she’s afraid of her, but rather like she’s a touch annoyed by the potential that lurks within, “for one in such a position as you.”

“It is because I am in such a position that I ask it,” she retorts smartly, folding her hands on the bars and trying to look as cool as possible, “I am already imprisoned, what else can you do to me?”

“...You are a brave creature, I will give you that,” Phillipus admits, giving her a begrudging scowl like she admires her despite herself, “and such bravery deserves an answer, I suppose. It is not so much you I dislike, but what you represent.”

“What I represent?” She repeats, faintly astonished despite herself.

“We left the world of men long ago, for reasons so good that it would pain me to recount them even now,” Phillipus slowly purses her lips together, as if still deciding how much to share, “we built a home here, a safe place, a family of sisters – and more, much more – all dedicated to raising our one daughter. We were happy, she was happy. And then you came, a messenger from the world of men determined to fill our daughter’s head with thoughts of war and justice and a whole other place that has no claim on her.”

She hesitates for a moment, trying to find the right words to defuse the sudden fury in Phillipus’ gaze.

“First of all, I am no messenger from the world of _humans_ ,” she stresses, deciding that boldness – when faced with an obvious general, proud of her ferocity – is her best bet, “and second of all, Diana had dreams of the world beyond long before I crashed out of the sky. She is a bold and beautiful woman, you cannot do her the disservice of pretending that she does not know her own mind.”

Phillipus’ nostrils flair, but her eyes go more thoughtful than – she suspects – the woman would like to admit, “if you had not arrived here, filling her thoughts with your strange language and your pointless struggles-“

“She would’ve dreamt of them anyway,” she says, a little sharp at having to repeat herself, “perhaps you should respect your daughter a little more, Phillipus. And perhaps you should allow Diana to make her own decisions for once. You never know, she might well surprise you with just how well she does.”

Phillipus stares at her for a long moment more, nostrils still flaring but eyes still ever so thoughtful...

Phillipus huffs, obviously trying to sound like some sort of villain, and spins on her heel like a soldier trained. Calls over her shoulder to her, as she marches coolly off, “you shall stay here until Hippolyta decides otherwise, and nothing less. It would serve you well, to remain as silent as possible until then.”

 

\--

 

So she is trapped there, in that tiny stone room with not even a window to light it.

Phillipus' promises are kept, and Hippolyta seems disinclined to come see her quickly and end her imprisonment. As a result she is allowed no visitors, no distraction, not a single break in the seemingly endless tedium that she has been confined to. Her only companions are stone faced guards, watching her day and night. her only entertainment is counting the many cracks in the wall. Her only solace is remembering the intensity in Diana's eyes, the warmth of her palms as they folded around her hands.

...Sigh.

It remains, in a way rather undeniable and incredibly annoying, hardly the best treatment that she's ever had.

Until, she estimates perhaps two days after her capture, a new guard with flyaway blonde hair and an edgy expression takes over. And, only a few minutes later, a hooded figure hurries into the room - glancing around fitfully, like she's wary of being thrown into a cell herself.

She has spent weeks learning that figure, she has started to see it in her dreams. She tugs herself up from where she was counting the cracks on the floor, and grips the bars of the cage as tightly as she can, " _Diana_."

"I can only visit you quickly, it won't take long before mother notices my absence," Diana, for it can only be Diana with concern in her eyes and wild dark hair falling over her shoulders, responds to her frantic hiss and crouches down by the side of her cell, "I just had to see you, to check that you were alright."

"Touching," she says, but somehow can't manage her usual level of understated sarcasm. To have Diana right there, staring at her with such open concern... It would take the strongest mind in the world, to resist something like that, "but you shouldn't have come. What if your mother notices your absence? What if Phillipus realizes that the guards aren't quite as watchful as they usually are? What if-?"

"I _had_ to see you," Diana repeats firmly, and frowns at her until even she has to sigh and give up the fight, "and you would do the same for me, if the situations were reversed, and don't even try to pretend otherwise."

"Perhaps," she sighs, as Diana continues to give her that _look_ "...Yes."

"What they have done to you is wrong," Diana says, expression softening just a little at that admission. Her hands come up slowly, close over hers on the bars so at least small parts of them are touching, "I know Phillipus is scared, I know that my mother shares at least some of her concerns, but... They should not have locked you up in here, not for telling only the truth."

"They shouldn't have," she agrees, because Diana deserves - and always will deserve - the truth in all forms, "but there is nothing I - we - can do about it at the moment, and so there's little point in getting angry."

"I am not angry, I am just-" Diana sighs, shakes her head. Her hair wafts through the gaps in the bars, tickles her nose just a little. She hadn't realized, not until that moment, just how close they were with only the old rusted metal to part them, "I will intercede with my mother, I will make her see sense."

"Diana-"

"I will tell her how right you are," Diana only continues, fixing her with a firm glance that she can't help but draw in a breath at, "how wise you are, how you only have my best interests at heart. I will tell her of the way you ride horses, the way you listened to everything I taught you of the stars, the way you happily taught me in return. I will tell her-"

They stare at each other for a long few seconds, held back from an embrace only by the bars.

...But when Diana leans in that final bit, the bars are not quite close together enough to stop their lips from meeting. Diana kisses a little more timid than expected, a little more carefully as if minding her own strength. Her lips taste a little of honey, a little of copper, _entirely_ of Diana standing in the middle between warrior and diplomat. She is a surprisingly good kisser, good enough to have stolen her breath away when she finally draws back.

"-I will tell her," Diana continues deliberately, voice only a little ragged as her lips glint even in the dim light, "that I care far too much for you, to allow her to make such a terrible mistake."

 

\--

 

So she remains trapped there, in that tiny stone room with not even a window to light it.

It would remain boring, does remain boring to a large degree, except now she has something more to sustain her. She cannot stop dwelling over memories of Diana. Over the concern clear in her eyes, the warmth of her hands, the touch of her lips so soft against her own. It's only been a few hours at most, but she's already certain that she could spend years revelling in the memory of those brief few moments.

It's certainly a far nicer way to spend her time, after the tedium of the days before.

But, alas, few good things can last. And so it is that night that Hippolyta finally chooses to make her appearance. She's eating her dinner, a meagre affair of rough bread and sloshing water, when the woman sweeps in front of her. Almost, despite herself, chokes on her most recent mouthful when Hippolyta takes a step closer to the bars and arches one eyebrow.

"...Hippolyta," she still manages as soon as she can, carefully toeing the respectful side of defiance.

"Ms Carter," Hippolyta returns, slowly inclining her head as if acknowledging that she - trapped in a prison cell, for no other reason than telling the truth - entirely has the right to be as defiant as she pleases, "you really should refer to me as my title, you know."

"I am not sure that I feel inclined to, at present moment," she answers, a touch sharply, and feels almost amused when Hippolyta only quirks a smirk in response, "have you come to let me out of here?"

"I am considering it," Hippolyta offers, and though the smirk remains her tone is honest. As befits the mother of somebody like Diana. It seems like sincere earnestness runs in the family, "I am not sure that a prison cell is entirely the right place for you. You have technically done nothing wrong, and your injury..."

"Is almost fully healed," she provides, honest herself. It still pangs, just slightly under the rough cloth clothes that they have been kind enough to give her, but she has never been one to mind the slightest pang all that much, "no thanks to the treatment of your guards, I might add."

"Why do I suspect that Phillipus' name lingers on the edge of your tongue?" Hippolyta sighs, the smirk falling from her face. A long moment, and then she crosses her arms in a very honest gesture of frustration, "she is the only reason why I am still torn over your fate, to speak truly. Torn over whether to let you out, or leave you to rot in her for eternity."

"Because you care for her," she provides, and calmly raises a hand when Hippolyta's eyes flash in her direction, "and thus trust her opinion."

"Trust it, and understand it," Hippolyta sighs, keeps her arms crossed. Thought remains clear on her face, in a way that she can't help but respect, "we suffered in many ways before we came here, and though I will not bore you with the details... We founded our society here as a separate one, one that would never have to interact with the world of _humans_ ever again."

"I can respect that," she says, pleased by the emphasis that Hippolyta deliberately dropped in.

"I suppose you can," Hippolyta stares at her with assessing eyes for a long few moments, shakes her head briskly as if chasing off another smile, "and thus you can also probably understand that, as intelligent and perceptive a woman as you seem to be, you represent an intrusion of that outside world to many of those who live here. They see you as a herald of the return of the old days, when we were seen as freaks and abominations and things to be hunted across the lands."

"I don't mean to cause anyone any harm," she demurs, and then sighs as she realizes her own position "...But I suppose I have to accept that my intentions, as pure as they are, don't matter so much in this situation."

"You really are perceptive," Hippolyta comments softly, and she senses that it's a compliment, "To Phillipus, and many others like her, you are the loathsome stranger who has already corrupted their princess and wishes to corrupt their queen. To keep you in this cell would be loathsome, but to let you wander free amongst those who already fear you would be an act of disrespect to my people. Can you see my dilemma?"

She remains silent for a long moment, considering the problem.

She rises to her feet, so she only has to look up at Hippolyta a little as opposed to a lot, strokes her hands down the front of her rough clothing and summons up her most charming smile, "then, your highness, I would suggest that you do neither."

 

\--

 

"I trust everything is to your liking?"

"It is certainly more pleasant than my last set of rooms," she chuckles, and turns to face Hippolyta across her new bedroom - one situated in the palace, pleasant but still secluded enough to avoid any problems with curiously wandering Amazons, "not that it matter much, anyway."

Hippolyta gives her a wry look, a pleased smile still lingering around her mouth, "doesn't it?"

"I'm not likely to be here for long, am I?" She doesn't shrug, despite her best efforts she is still far too well bred a lady to shrug, but she does shift a little - arch an eyebrow, to hammer home her point, "as long as there was a bed and a window, I would've been happy."

"An admirable viewpoint," Hippolyta chuckles a little, eyes sliding deliberately to the rather large window set in the wall and the rather pleasant balcony that waits beyond it, "but we wish you to be comfortable, for the rest of the time you spend here. Consider it an apology, for our previous treatment of you."

She nods slowly, absorbs the information into her mind "...We?"

"Phillipus may have, in confidence, admitted to me that she overreacted in her treatment of you," Hippolyta's smile grows a little, she actually strolls over to the window and peers out at the sunlight in a show of casualness so studied that she half feels like applauding at the sight, "I trust you will not spread this information around?"

"I will be the soul of discretion," she promises, unable to stop a faint smile from quirking her lips "...As long as you tell me, in as exact terms as possible, what you plan to do with me now."

"Send you back to the human world."

"Yes, but-"

"Build a boat," Hippolyta interrupts her as politely as possible, turns back in her direction with an arched eyebrow and a smirk starting to form across her features, "with the sturdiest wood we can find in the island. Put you on that boat. Give you vague directions back to where you came from. Wave you off, and go back to our everyday lives."

"And that's it?" She asks, amused despite herself, "my, with all the events of the past few days I honestly thought it would be a little more complicated."

"Well," Hippolyta makes a small face, ducks her head, "I may have left one part of the plan out."

...She hesitates for a moment, watching the woman closely. The atmosphere was comfortable just a few moments before, teasing in a way unfamiliar and yet still comfortable to her, but now it has gone significantly more weighted. She gets the impression that something serious is going to happen in the next few seconds, something that has a startlingly high chance of changing the world forever.

Well, she's never shied away from change, "which part?"

"The seas around Themyscira are rough and windy, it is impossible for one person to get through by herself," Hippolyta takes a deep breath, finally raises her gaze. And her chin is firm, and her eyes are so resigned that she honestly has to take a breath at the sight of them "...And my daughter, when she came to me to plead for your freedom just yesterday, was very persuasive about the need to intervene in this world war you are so terrified of."

"For justifiable reason," she answers slowly, a little stunned, "so..."

"So you will not be leaving this island alone," Hippolyta frowns a little, her eyes as dark as the sea she will soon sail away over, "an Amazon will be going with you, leaving Themyscira forever to guide you on your way back home."

 

\--

 

"I trust everything is to your liking?"  
It's several hours later, and the sun has just set over the horizon. She's been sitting on the surprisingly luxurious bed, planning out disaster scenarios in her head as she usually does when she has a moment free. At the sound of that ever so familiar voice she leaps up to her feet, spins to face the door with more enthusiasm than she ever thought herself capable of mustering, "Diana!"

"Peggy," Diana smiles in return, sounding equally relieved, and sweeps into the room - takes her hands again, a firm warmth that she has to fight not to visibly react to, "I see that my mother listened to my words, at last."

"You were very convincing," she chuckles, a little proud, and makes a face as Diana gives her a lasting and entirely obvious glance over, "you can stop checking me for battle wounds, I'm fine. Nobody dragged me anywhere this time, your mother just led me here at a perfectly ordinary and reasonable pace."

"I am glad to hear it," Diana's expression goes briefly outraged, passionate in a way that strikes her every single time, "what Phillipus did..."

"She had her reasons," she interrupts, smirks a little as Diana's expression transforms to one that is openly shocked, "as literally everybody here has told me, by this point. I would've preferred not to be dragged around like a common criminal, but... She was scared. And fear can cause people to do odd things."

"I wish it were different," Diana mutters, but eases a little. Even flashes her a smile, when she squeezes those long fingers in between hers, "but, then, I wish many things were different."

"Indeed," she says wryly, still pays attention to the sudden shadow in Diana's fierce blue eyes, "you wish you could fly, for one."

"I wish I could fly across the world, see every sight held within it," Diana agrees, with a soft sigh that is probably meant to be dreamy but that simply ends up melancholy instead, "I wish I could end the wars you speak of, restore peace to the innocent. I wish I could make everybody truly innocent, free of pain or fear or hate. I wish... I wish that you were not planning to leave me."

...Perhaps she should've paid more attention.

They stare at each other for a long and silent moment, up close. Diana's eyes have gone as deep as the ocean, fathomless with some sort of grief that even she has to shy away at. She's aware that her own expression is probably the most unguarded that it's been in years, vividly open with shock and regret.

"I-" She shakes her head, takes a deep breath and reminds herself that she has _never_ been the type to stutter no matter how dire the situation, "I am guessing that your mother told you that too."

"She said you would be leaving, as soon as they could build a boat," Diana murmurs, still not glancing away from her face. She admires the woman's strength, most people would be trying to look anywhere else in a moment like this, "as soon as they held a tournament, to find the one best suited to escort you home. She said that you would go away, to never be seen again. She said-"

But her mind is already racing, back to those crisis situations she was considering earlier. Back to the thought of a fine tournament, held to get her far away from this isolated place. Back to the thought of a set of trials, the perfect thing to get a princess who has always dreamed of the stars off a tiny little rock and into the whole wide world.

"There are ways around all things, Diana," she interrupts softly, makes sure to keep meeting the woman's eyes - and as a result sees the moment that a burst of thought occurs, flashing across her face like a sunburst, "now, come. We might as well talk of more pleasant matters, for as long as we have left together."

 

\--

 

"I trust everything is to your liking?"  
"Mm?" Diana looks up from her bowl of olives, her cheeks endearingly full. Has to chew for a few moments, before she can swallow and provide a proper answer, "yes, these are probably the best olives on Themyscira. I enjoy them immensely."

It's a few days later, another astonishingly pretty dusk spent sitting in her new bedroom with Diana by her side. They're on the bed together, two bowls of olives between them. It is hot, and so they are wearing disgracefully little and carefully leaving their bodies just a few feet apart.

"Why do I suspect you weren't thinking of the olives?" She teases gently, keeps smiling even as Diana gives her a look of utter confusion, "you looked like you were miles away."

"Miles...?" Diana frowns for a second more, before that glorious thought bursts brightly over her face again, "ah, another one of your human world sayings! I may have been a little distracted, it is true. There is a lot to think about."

"Such as...?"

"The order of the trials was announced today," Diana says, narrows her eyes briefly as she reaches to rub her hands clean on a nearby cloth, "the ones to decide who would accompany you home. There is to be a foot race, then archery, then a battle, then a chariot race and then... Something unspecified."

"I suspect it'll be a good show, considering the probable strength of the field," she sets down her own bowl of olives. Reaches out to wipe her own hands clean, keeping her eyes on Diana all the while, "not that any of them will be as good as you of course."

"Perhaps, perhaps not."

"You are an amazing runner," she offers honestly, watches as a slight smile quirks up the side of Diana's mouth, "and a wonderful archer, and an impressive fighter, and a talented chariot racer. And your ability to cope with the unexpected... Well, it is better than all of the men I have met."

"You must not have met very competent men," Diana chuckles, and only laughs harder when she completely fails to deny that truth, "to tell you truth, Peggy... I have also been thinking of something else."

"Something else?" She presses, trying to sound perfectly innocent and not at all breathlessly expectant.

"I do not want you to go," Diana says bluntly, meeting her eyes full on. Suddenly she realizes just how close they are, lying together half-naked on her bed, "but, as I realize how impossible that is, I do not want you to go with one of my sisters. I want to be by your side always, to fight with you as my shield sister and..."

Diana's eyes dip down, briefly run over the curve of her mouth.

"...Maybe more."

"Do you need to put your name down, to enter the competition?" She asks, definitely a touch breathless this time. Takes the opportunity to manage a steadying gulp, when Diana dips her head in a slow nod, "it is completely anonymous?"

"I could wear a mask over my features, and they still would not question me," Diana agrees, with a small and fierce nod, "granted, I should not even be considering it. My mother needs me, my sisters need me, _Themyscira_ needs me to lead it onwards into the next age. But..."

"I need you too," she offers, taken aback by her own honesty, "the _world_ needs you too."

Diana smiles a little, charmed at that, and for a long moment everything looks set to go back to where it was. They can go back to eating olives, talking idly, not letting their friendship change the slightest bit...

"Peggy, now _you_ look miles away."

But she's always been a fan of change, "perhaps I am. Diana... Do you remember when you kissed me, back when I was trapped in that cell?"

Diana stills for a long moment, and then sits up slowly. She gathers their bowls of olives into her hands, and deposits them on the bedside table with a speed that is frankly flattering, "miles away sounds quite pleasant, if that is what is there."

"Diana," she laughs jokingly, and then a little more raggedly as Diana's hand comes to rest on her knee and Diana's eyes land ever so intensely back on her face, "I really do think that I need you, you know."

"You wish to know the truth?," Diana smiles, soft and radiant. And leans in to steadily kiss her again, “I am almost certain that I need you too.”

 

\--

 

Afterwards, several hours later when they have both brought themselves to pleasure, they stand on the balcony and look out at the deep blue sea. She keeps the sheets wrapped around her, still unable to sacrifice that last bit of modesty even if there’ll be nobody to see. Diana stands behind her as naked as the day she was born, tanned arms resting on the marble of the balcony as she stares pensively out to sea.

“You have convinced me,” Diana is the first one to speak, luckily before she can get entirely distracted by the woman’s curves, “I shall don a helmet, and I shall enter the competition to accompany you.”

“I suspect I did not have to do that much convincing,” she teases gently. Watches, with a certain sense of pleasure, as Diana’s lips curve up into an ever so attractive smirk, “I would be glad to have you along, I won’t lie. I would miss your presence terribly if it were not besides me, and half suspect that I would end up pining for years.”

“I sense another question lingers on your tongue, behind all of your charming words.”

“You know me so well,” she smiles, flattered despite herself. Soon lets it drop, in favour of a deliberately more serious expression “...Are you sure, that this is what you want?”

Diana continues to peer out into the ocean for a long few moments, expression still pensive, “shouldn’t I be?”

“It’s a big step,” she takes in a deep breath, forces herself to go onwards no matter how much her heart cries out for her to be silent and allow events to progress towards an advantage. Diana deserves a choice, which means that she deserves to be fully informed, “you will be leaving a literal paradise, a place where you never have to grow old or suffer, for... The human world. A place where a horrible war is being fought, a place where innocent men and women are torn apart every day, a place where people will judge you as inferior for the slightest things.”

There is a long silence. A light sea breeze drifts in, blowing Diana’s hair wildly over her shoulders.

“It is true, that I have never left this island and thus have never truly known what it is like to suffer,” Diana says softly, so softly that she actually has to strain her ears to catch it, “but a cage, no matter how nice it may be, is still a cage. I am ready to see this world outside, no matter how deep its flaws. I am ready to change it, to make a paradise for all as opposed to just some.”

She opens her mouth but, for probably the first time in her life, words won’t come out. She is stunned, struck silent by the sheer bravery in Diana’s gaze.

“And, besides,” Diana only continues, a slight smile coming across her face as if she realizes the significance of such an occurrence, “it will hardly be a paradise if you are not in it, no?”

“I suppose not,” she murmurs, and then finds herself unable to stop smiling – so wide that it splits her face in two, so vivid that she practically finds herself swaying from the joy of it, “I suppose some part of me always wanted to be a muse, inspiring perfection all around her. I never quite expected it to happen like this, but…”

Diana laughs, carefree. And then her smile goes somewhat wicked, her eyes grow heated again as she reaches out to reel her back in, “come, it is several hours until dawn yet and I am still not entirely tired.”

Well, she can hardly protest that.

 

\--

 

Afterwards, after the conversation and the decision and yet more hours spent learning the curves of each other's bodies, things start moving rather quickly. The date for the competition is set, the details of the trials are finalized and the list of competitors grows steadily larger by the day.

She would feel flattered, if her interest wasn't exclusively focused on only one of them.

"I must confess," she says to Hippolyta the day of the competition. They're sitting up in the hastily erected stands, in what she calls the royal box and what Hippolyta calls a good place to sit, with Phillipus hovering carefully by their side, "I'm surprised that I'm allowed to witness this."

"Why shouldn't you be?" Hippolyta asks casually, watching as the competitors line up below. Most of them bare headed, one wearing a heavy helmet that obscures all but a few unruly strands of dark hair, "it is only happening because of you."

"Aren't you afraid that I'm going to disrupt things?" she presses, only long years of control stopping her from sending a glance in the silent Phillipus' direction, "distract your Amazons from their goal?"

"Ms Carter..."

"Maybe I was wrong," Phillipus interrupts her queen, in such a stunning move that both of them have to spin around to stare at her, "maybe you are not as disruptive an influence as I initially feared, and maybe... All of _the_ Amazons are mature enough to decide how they want to react to new and different things."

They all stare at each other, for a long and still faintly surprised moment.

"Phillipus speaks true," Hippolyta is the one to break it, turning front again with a small smile playing around the corners of her mouth. She lingers for a second more, regarding Phillipus with a new kind of respect, and then follows the woman's lead, "the Amazons are not a distressed rabble of chickens, to be spurred into panic at the slightest sight of a thing that they fear. They are warriors, brave and true."

"And the knowledge that I'll be leaving soon probably helps," she presses, voice careful as she carefully leans her arms on the rough wooden front and watches the Amazons below organize themselves into a line.

"That too," Hippolyta agrees, cheerfully enough. And then sighs, also leans forward and casually rests her invulnerable arms on the rough wood, "the only thing I do fear is that..."

"We've discussed this, 'Lyta," Phillipus rumbles from behind, voice sympathetic.

"What?"

"It has been a long time, an incredibly long time, since one of our number has left us," Hippolyta murmurs, her eyes running carefully over every single one of the warriors gathered below, "I fear their reaction, their grief, at losing one of our sisters in such a permanent way."

She remains silent for a long few moments, feels mildly guilty but nothing more intense, "you said they were strong, Hippolyta. I am sure they will cope."

"They are strong," Phillipus says, sounding an odd mixture of annoyed and proud at her people.

"And they will cope, no matter what," Hippolyta agrees, tone soft as her eyes come to rest on the final Amazon - the one wearing a helmet that hides her dark hair and ocean blue eyes, "and so, perhaps, that particular fear is more for myself. Over how I will cope, if one of our number leaves us."

 

\--

 

Afterwards the trials progress apace, feats of derring-do designed to captivate the minds of all but the most humourless. There are thrills, there are spills, there are acts of borderline magic. There are shows of such competence that the heart almost stops at witnessing it.

And, of course, one is one more competent then all the rest. Head and shoulders above the competition, with the eternal sun glinting off her silver helmet.

The mysterious masked one wins the foot race in good time, half a lap ahead of all her competitors. Her legs are long and tan, she runs like she is chasing a fearsome cheetah down. Her victory is such that the crowd can only respond with a stunned silence for a long few seconds after she finishes, before erupting into a show of appreciation so loud that birds startle from the trees all around.

The archery is a little closer, a little less dominated by the one who hides her face behind a helmet, but still produces a decisive victory in the end. The closest competition, the same Amazon that allowed Diana near her cell that one time, falters at the last shot while her mysterious competition's arrow strikes straight and true. The appreciation is more immediate this time, a thunder of applause so loud that even the rocks seem to creak in alarm.

The battle is next, and the helmeted stranger redeems herself incredibly well from her close shave. When the dust clears, when her heart finally falls back down from where it lodged in her throat, the stranger alone stands triumphant among her subdued competitors. She has showed little sign of her appreciation before now, but when the roar rises this time - probably loud enough to shock the fish in the sea - she raises the hand holding her sword in a manner that is almost shy.

The chariot race follows, and though it is again close very little can stand against one so very mysterious and so very competent. A few challenge her on the bends, but by the time it comes to the final stretch she is surging ahead and crosses the line in style. She worries over the reaction of the horses at the resulting tumult of applause, but she shouldn’t have - a few careful strokes from the competent stranger's hand and they calm , look around with mild interest as the universe celebrates their daring.

And then... Only the unspecified thing remains, a feat more mysterious than the competent 'stranger' by far.

She is urged to walk into the arena alongside Hippolyta, to her mild surprise. The cheering of the Amazons quiets as they walk across the packed sand, but she has never really been one to wilt under public opinion and so keeps her head high.

The trials were scored on a points system, one that she paid little attention to with her eyes so fixed upon that shining silver helmet, and so now many of the competitors have been eliminated. Only three remain. A girl with closely cropped hair who regards her with borderline suspicion, the one who almost carried away the archery who regards her with a small smile, and... The helmeted stranger whose face is entirely shadowed, but who she suspects regards her with some level of friendliness.

"You have all done well to get this far," Hippolyta says, voice so terribly heavy for some reason, "but now we have reached the final trial, and this may well be the most complicated one yet."

She glances over, curious. Immediately finds herself stunned, as she witnesses Hippolyta slowly drawing her pistol - the one she thought swept out to sea and lost forever - from a pocket in her robes, "are you entirely sure about that?"

"Your concern is touching, Peggy, but aren't you the one who said that my Amazons were more competent than I gave them credit for?" Hippolyta gives her a brief, somewhat wan smile. Raises the gun up, and somehow aims it perfectly, "Kallistrate, you shall be first. If you can deflect this bullet, you are worthy of taking our visitor back to her own world."

Kallistrate, the one with the close cropped hair, looks somewhat wary but still takes a firm step forward. Hippolyta aims, firms her finger on the trigger...

"No!"

She expects Kallistrate to drop like a stone when the bullet shoots past her tensed stance and into her shoulder... But the Amazons are obviously a great deal more powerful than she ever dreamed. The woman only grunts, lifts one casual hand to the wound like she's just been scratched by a bramble as opposed to being shot by one of the deadliest weapons on earth.

"A good try, but unfortunately the bullet quite clearly hit," Hippolyta sighs, sends a briefly amused sideways glance in her direction before gesturing the next one forwards, "Alcippe, are you ready?"

Alcippe strides forward with her head held up high and her eyes bright, but seems to hesitate in the moment before Hippolyta aims again. She takes a brief glance sideways, to where the masked stranger patiently waits... And gives a low sigh, dodges narrowly sideways out of the path of the bullet as it shoots violently through the air.

"Impressive," she offers quietly, touched for a reason that she can't quite name.

"But, unfortunately, not quite what I was looking for. You were meant to deflect the bullet, Alcippe, not dodge it altogether," Hippolyta gives a low sigh, one that sounds faintly resigned when she listens to it. Reluctantly lifts her free hand again, and gestures the last competitor forward, "stranger, as long as you deflect this bullet you will be the one taking Peggy Carter back to her world... You will be the one to leave us, forever. Is this really what you wish to do, in your heart of hearts?"

A long moment, as the entire arena seems to hold their breaths. And then the mysterious stranger slowly lifts her arms, crosses them - garbed in the same silver that covers her head - over her chest and waits for the inevitable.

"So be it," Hippolyta whispers, her eyes shining just faintly in the balmy light of paradise.

And the gun goes off, so loud that even she almost jumps at it.

 

\--

 

The bullet ricochets easily off the mysterious stranger's gauntlets, and she lowers them with an air of surprise.

She expects the cheer to be so loud that it will reach the sky itself, so loud that the world outside will be warned that they're coming, but instead there is silence. One of the formerly startled birds caws reproachfully in the distance, the sound of waves thrashing against the distant shore trickles slowly in. It is as if they are all waiting for something, waiting for some sign how to react.

Hippolyta steps forward, willing to provide it even through the strange grief in her eyes, "you have won the right to leave Themyscira, stranger. Is it as satisfying as you dreamed?"

"I have won the right to take Peggy home," the stranger speaks, not even bothering to disguise her voice behind the helmet. They are distant enough from the other Amazons not to cause a panic, but all those close to them look somewhat shellshocked, "and I have proved myself. Should I not be pleased?"

"Pleased to leave your sisters?" Hippolyta asks softly, not looking shocked at all, "pleased to leave _me_ , quite probably forever?"

There is a long pause, as they both stare at each other. The nearby Amazons look torn between bafflement and the urge to faint. Even she, an outsider, half feels the urge to take a step back at the tension in the air. The only one unaffected seems to be Alcippe, who looks faintly bored at the proceedings all around her.

"...I do not take pleasure, in abandoning most of what is dear to me," the stranger eventually offers, her voice soft as she takes a beseeching step forwards, "but I do take pleasure in finally, finally, finding my own path. Can you begrudge me that?"

Hippolyta stares for a moment, eyes shining.

"I suppose not," Hippolyta sighs, acceptance shining even through her grief, and raises her arms again - draws back in the rest of the crowd easily, like the queen she is, "remove your covering, stranger, so we may all know who you are. And appreciate a true hero of Themyscira!"

The stranger wastes no more time. She dips her head a little, briefly and endearingly clumsy in her rush to be known. Her fingers fumble once at the catchings of the helmet, twice...

She steps forward before the third time, unwilling to let her love do this on her own. The catchings are old, but part relatively easily under the hands of one used to dealing with tricky clothing on a daily basis. She draws the helmet over the stranger's head in a moment, reveals her to the world with bated breath.

And...

She expected gasps, howls of grief, maybe shouts of rage at the revelation of their princess. She even, although she feels slightly ashamed to admit it, expected that rage to be directed at her - stones to be thrown, insults to be screeched, a pyre to be narrowly escaped from.

But the Amazons are far more than Phillipus expected, far more than Hippolyta expected, far more than even she expected. There is a pause, yes, one that swells with a certain sense of grief... But soon a faint murmur moves through the crowd, then a louder chatter, and then a full blown cheer rising louder and louder until she swears that the clouds _do_ shake with the enthusiasm of it.

"They will miss you," she comments softly, as the roar rises all around them.

"Yes," Diana admits, her voice soft and faintly regretful. But when she turns around, to look briefly at that beautiful face, her expression is the firmest that she's ever seen, "but I would miss you more, were you to leave without me."

 

\--

 

The roar continues well into the night, a celebration as notable for its borderline desperation as its force, but they experience very little of it. They attend perhaps an hour of the following party, maybe a little less, and then Hippolyta takes them both by the hand and leads them reluctantly away.

A boat is already waiting in the harbour, bobbing jauntily on the deep blue sea.

Phillipus goes with them, presumably to guard against any wild animals that lurk on the path, and she expects the woman to leave them a little before the beach. But instead she follows them all the way onto the stand, grabs Diana just a few steps before the boat and gives her a fierce hug.

"Always remember how much we love you," she whispers, firm into Diana's ear, and only draws back when even Diana starts to gasp for air - it is night now, the sun long since set, but she can still see the emotion painted clearly across the woman's face, "you are the jewel of Themyscira, the pride of us all. And no matter where you may travel, I am sure you will accomplish great things."

Diana looks like she wants to speak for a long moment, but eventually just settles for a faintly wet smile and a fierce nod of her head. It says it all, really.

"And you!" Phillipus grins in return, and then spins in her direction. She startles a little, at the sudden attention, but manages to coolly keep her place. Judging by the lingering grin on Phillipus' face, she appreciates the effort, "you are much more than I ever dreamed, when you first washed up here. I am sorry to have misjudged you."

"All is forgiven," she says, and means it entirely honestly.

"I am glad," Phillipus raises her chin, meets her eyes with a certain expression of respect. Despite herself, she cannot help but be charmed by it, "take care of our princess, Peggy Carter. And make sure to match her in her greatness."

And then the woman withdraws a few steps down the sand, Hippolyta stepping into the moonlight with a barely leashed expression of grief upon her features.

"I feared this day since the moment you came to me," she says honestly to Diana, but can't quite seem to help a smile as she reaches out to drag her daughter into her arms, "but, now that it has come, I see that it was always inevitable... And that it is, perhaps, a great deal less terrifying than it first seemed."

"Mother," Diana says into her shoulder, voice heavy with tears.

"I have always been proud of you, my Diana, and I always will be," Hippolyta says firmly, draws back to clasp her daughter's face in her hands and look her firmly in the eye, "go enjoy your freedom. Go be the greatest hero that the outside world has ever known, and remake it to be so much better than it is."

Diana nods, tears clinging stubbornly to her eyelashes as she takes a deep breath, "will I ever see you again?"

"With your strength, my daughter? I think there is nothing that you can't accomplish," Hippolyta smiles down at her daughter, strong despite the obvious pain tearing at her. Raises her head eventually, and takes in both of them - standing on the sand, preparing to depart for a world uncertain and often so much less than it could be, "nothing that both of you can't accomplish, working together."

"Your highness," she says respectfully, slightly taken aback at the firmness of the prediction.

"Ms Carter," and Hippolyta only smiles in response, finally lets go of Diana and straightens her shoulders like the queen she is, "take care of my daughter and my daughter's heart. And make the world a better place, for the both of you."

 

\--

The sea is deep and dark all around them, but somehow still feels alive for all the silence. Their boat bobs on the waves peacefully, the birds seem to have largely settled down to sleep for the night and she sometimes sees vaguely smooth shapes shooting through the sea underneath them. Diana’s head is on her shoulder, her eyes closed at she listens to the waves. She must admit, it is a level of peace she never thought she’d have.

And so, of course, she has to be practical and let reality back into this little space between them, “you know that my world may not be quite as free as it seems?”

“Mm,” Diana murmurs, and sleepily opens her eyes, “you are thinking of the war?”

“The truth of the war, not the glory of the songs but the crushed innocents and the limitless amounts of pain left in its wake,” she hesitates for a long second, strongly tempted to just let the subject drop and enjoy these last few moments of peace, “and... More.”

Diana peers up at her for a second, seeming confused, and then finally sits. Her dark hair sweeps over her shoulder, she seems to be thinking deeply, “more?”

“My world is wider than Themyscira, yes, but also a great deal more dangerous and a great deal less permissive,” she swallows, forces herself to be as brave as ever even with those eyes staring so beseechingly at her, “there is the war, of course, and all the people crushed underneath it. There remain the attitudes that created the war, the desire to point fingers and find scapegoats and destroy anything even the remotest bit different. And there are a thousand men, all convinced that their way is right and willing to step on anybody else to prove it.”

“Peggy-“

“It is not a kind world, is my point,” she continues firmly, her hands clenching – largely against her will, into fists with the force of her emotion, “it is a mean world, an unfair world, a world where people are willing to judge you for anything and everything. Your gender, the colour of your skin, who you dare to love...”

“ _Peggy_ ,” But Diana interrupts her, before she can build up to a speech that will last until they finally reach land. Firmly takes her hands, and fixes her with a gaze so wise that she can’t help but be taken aback, “we know each other far too well for you to treat me like some naive maiden, who knows nothing outside of her own corner of the world. I know that the path ahead is difficult, I know that there will be many obstacles and many unpleasant things waiting in our way.”

She does not stutter. But, for the first time in her life, she understands the urge to, “then why are you so calm?”

“Because we have both faced deeply unpleasant things before and come through them,” Diana answers, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Sitting there, in the moonlight with her dark hair free around her face, she’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, “because you are smart and I am bold, and smartness and boldness are good things to push through the world. Because you do not change unpleasant facts by hiding your face from them, but rather by facing them as bravely as you can. Because...”

Diana pauses for a long few seconds, obviously thinking her words through. She waits for her, absolutely enchanted.

“We have each other,” and Diana, Diana with her wild hair and kind eyes and bravery shining more brightly than any fire, does not disappoint, “and, as I have said before and will say again, how can we fail to face anything when we have each other?”

“You know,” she laughs a little, struck by the quiet ocean around them and the bright stars above them and Diana sitting so calmly in front of her, “I think I might well be on my way to falling in love with you.”

“I think that I might well already be there,” Diana answers, quiet affection shining clear from her gaze. And when she leans in this time, slow and savouring the certainty of it, it is wonderful and fated and more perfect than anything she has ever seen. They kiss there, bobbing in their boat on the wine dark sea, and she knows very well that whatever surprises may await they can face them all down.

...Together.

And there is nothing more satisfying than that.


End file.
